


A cowboy and a god live in a cabin...

by NevaRYadL



Category: God of War (Video Games), Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Arthur Morgan Does Not Have Tuberculosis, Fluff, M/M, anymore, brief animal death mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-01
Updated: 2021-02-17
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:40:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27826903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NevaRYadL/pseuds/NevaRYadL
Summary: Arthur and his new lifelong companion talk about olives
Relationships: Kratos (God of War)/Arthur Morgan
Comments: 3
Kudos: 31





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> WARNING: Arthur Morgan/Kratos, mentions of Arthur once being sick, briefly mentioned animal death
> 
> Listen, I know this is weird and I usually don't touch crossovers but I read this fic https://archiveofourown.org/works/23738149/chapters/57007447 and haven't been able to stop thinking about it, I highly recommend you read it

"We don't really eat them raw. I mean, there's kinda rare out this way, but I've eaten them a few times pickled and stuffed with uh... I think it was a mushroom? Sounds about right, anyway, one of them there fancy mushrooms though."

"That sounds... disgusting."

Arthur snorted, grinning wirily but otherwise not saying much about his companion's remark, continuing to sketch away on his page of the surrounding forest. Beautiful scene, Arthur was glad he got to wake up to it every morning and that every day he could spend a little more time outside, his once ravaged lungs slowly but surely healing from the damage done to them.

"Well pickled they don't taste half bad. Not to mention, they come over from uh... Greece?"

A nod.

"Greece, so to survive the trip it's just easier to pickle them. Not to mention olive oil. You folks made it, right?" Arthur asked, stopping to peer at his drawing and then peer at the scenery. Needed some darker shadows and that tree over there needed to be taller in the drawing.

"I do not know."

Arthur shifted in his seat, swallowing to bite back a tickle in his throat. He was not quite as done with his drawing as he wanted to be and did not want a scolding to go back to bed rest just yet. Thankfully, when he turned to look at his mostly quiet companion, the pale giant was still working over the pelt from his prize from his hunt. The meat had already been neatly carved up and put into the ice box, the offal Arthur had been surprised had been turned into bait or chopped up and worked into the plot of land they both were trying to get crop ready. The big man had even found a usage for most of the bones. Arthur admired the efficiency.

When he was sure that he had cleverly hidden his rasp, Arthur turned back to his drawing.

"What kinda stuff would you eat it with?" Arthur asked. "Only ever saw someone use that stuff to oil a gun because we didn't have anything else."

"... I used to like dipping bread into it, with salt. It would settled my stomach, from hunger or ill."

Arthur nodded, looking over again at the pale giant. It looked like he was mostly done, now taking the time to clean his big hands. Arthur always thought that the blood in the ash colored skin was an exceptionally odd sight. A stark color contrast that almost had Arthur's hands itching to pick up a paint brush in an attempt to replicate it. Maybe when his lungs were better and there was some extra money around for that kind of stuff, because if Arthur remembered right, that shit was expensive. Also made you nuttier than squirrel shit too, if he remembered a few certain 'artsy' friends from his past.

"Maybe next trip out we can see if they have a bottle of the stuff somewhere. Bread, salt and olive oil seems like easy things to get," Arthur noted idly as he sketched.

A grunt.

A few moments of silence later and finally Arthur's lungs betrayed him and he coughed. He tried to cover it up quick, but the giant fretting man turned to look at him with 'the look'. The 'are you going to go to bed yourself or must I drag you there again' look that Arthur had become far too acquainted with. And after his coughing had settled down, Arthur rolled his eyes and dusted his legs off before taking up his book and his pencil and marching his ass inside, making sure to give a smartass salute to the pale giant that got a small smile out of him, before stepping inside the little cabin that he had become familiar with over the past two (or was it three? Four?) months.

It must have only ever been for one or two people at one point. Single large room, large bed in the corner and a fire place against the backwall with a comfy chair by it, the ice box off in another corner to keep it cool longer. A couple pelts from the big man's hunts were hanging on the wall, both to keep the place warmer and show off, though frankly the only one that was impressive was the bear pelt. There was a chest of clothing at the foot of the bed where the two of them kept their clothing, though admittedly Arthur had more, then again he did not walk around shirtless like some people even in the cooler months coming up on them. A table, though it was hardly used, and then a closet off to the side with Arthur's guns and the big man's odd weapons and a few odds and ends. Honestly, even if it felt a little small with of them inside, it was still one of the nicer places that Arthur had a joy of calling home. Also it was warm and the bed was comfortable, which was better than a lot of places that Arthur had laid his head since his youth.

Kicking his boots off by the door, Arthur ambled over to the chair by the fire and sat down, opening his book again and opening to a new page. He thought idly about what to draw for a moment, before he heard the door open and close, the pale giant walking in with the pelt rolled up under one big arm. Arthur nodded to him before deciding on what he wanted to draw next, starting with some light guide lines as he started, listening to his companion move around briefly before digging around the ice box for a moment, coming back around with the stuff to make their dinner and starting. Arthur idly sketched as the big man worked, starting a stew that would be ready in a few hours and be something to idly work on. When the stew was on and starting to cook, the big man sat on the bed and started idly messaging his hands, working over his likely achy knuckles.

"You good, Kratos?"

"Yes."

Arthur just nodded, turning back to his sketch of the big man and how the light hit his features just right.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: Kratos/Arthur Morgan, mlm fluff, mentions to Arthur have TB, mentions to Arthur's past with the gang, mentions of past depressive/suicidal thinking
> 
> If cringe culture is truly dead, I can keep posting weird as fuck as fuck crossover gay pairings

“Mister Arthur Morgan! Well, ain’t you a sight for sore eyes?”

“Howdy Miss Bell,” Arthur smiled, tipping his head at the sweet old lady sweeping her store front porch. “Sorry. When you all had that bad weather and that bug was goin’ around, had to keep clear. My lungs are still uh… not ready for the ball, so to speak.”

“Oh, I know hun, I know. Still nice to see that handsome face back ‘round these parts,” Miss Bell smiled sweetly as Arthur urged the cart to a stop next to the empty space next to the shop. Miss Bell was kind in letting Arthur park the wagon there, on account of ‘his stubborn ass wanting to help haul stuff, and hearin’ him huffin’ and puffin’ broke her poor little ol’ heart’.

Arthur’s quiet companion stepped down when Arthur had the wagon settled, walking around and waiting for him to gently ease himself down and straighten himself out before ambling over. Miss Bell smiled sweetly again, as Arthur’s silent companion held the door open for him and her, before stepping in himself. 

Arthur had the list they needed for supplies for about two weeks. It would have been better to have weekly runs, but with Arthur’s lungs still being rather shit, he and Kratos were wary of stressing Arthur’s lungs with the travel, it was just not possible. And, just like Arthur had mentioned, wary of picking up anything and accidently carrying it home, because one of them was sub-human and one of them was a on the mend old man who still ended up panting it if walked for more than twenty feet.

But just sometimes Arthur wanted to not be housebound, even if he was still healing. When he could, he wanted to ride his sick ass out to town and just not be at home.

“What can I get your fine, gents?” Miss Bell asked as she busied herself behind the counter.

Arthur and her hashed out what he needed from her store specifically. He still needed to go over to the gunsmith and the place that sold stuff for fixing buildings and such. Food was more important though, because Kratos was a good hunter, but no one could survive on meat alone. Even if, Arthur had a feeling that maybe his quiet companion could, based on size and sheer muscle mass alone.

“Hmm…”

“What?” Arthur asked as Miss Bell went about picking up what he needed from around the store.

“I know you was a thin thing for a while, because you was healing,” Miss Bell said. “But it looks like you’re puttin’ on weight again, mister Morgan! I bet I could almost pinch that cheek.”

“Well, yeah, finally can hold down food and walk around a little.”

“Mmm, you’re a handsome fella now, mister Morgan, but I bet you just get better with some fat on your ribs,” Miss Bell said, reaching over and in fact, pinching his cheek. “A certain fella probably won’t be able to keep his hands off ya when you finally put all your weight back on, huh?”

Arthur snorted loudly, feeling his ears pink just a little. When he glanced over, Kratos coughed once and was doing that thing when he pressed his lips into a tight and embarrassed line underneath the shadow of his hood. Just made Arthur snort again and made Miss Bell giggle. Which just made the big, quiet giant grunt again and thumb at his nose with even more embarrassment that just put a smile on Arthur’s face. Something about this brick wall of a being getting all flustered was almost… cute.

They got what they needed, Kratos hurriedly taking everything out to the wagon, much to the two’s grinning delight. Arthur carried a few light things, relishing the movement of his body before his lungs gave him a _gentle_ reminder to slow his roll. He leaned against the wagon to huff and puff quietly as Kratos got everything loaded up in a neat and timely manner, only straightening up to go in and square away with Miss Bell.

“Don’t be a stranger now!” Miss Bell called as Arthur tipped his hat and the two men mosied on out.

The gunsmith passed without fanfare. Arthur needed his guns cleaned up and maintained, since he could not quite get his hands to do it and bending over to do the delicate work was still a very hard ‘no’ on his part. Also needed bullets for the varmint rifle. Much like the next shop, so that the two could get a few pieces of lumber to start stocking up for a much larger project of expanding their little house for a little more room. Really make that old cabin a home by pouring blood, sweat and tears into that, though Arthur had technically done that during the rough start of his recovery, but someone did not like getting reminded of Arthur coughing up blood and having acute night terrors the first few months.

When everything they needed was loaded up, they hopped back into the wagon and took off towards the thick woods where their home was.

Huh, home. Arthur could not quite get used to the fact that he had a building where he could lay his head and felt safe, warm and could call ‘home’. Then again, the people holding him back from settling down into a peaceful life were gone, dead or settled down themselves. As much as it still hurt, thinking of the old gang just gone like that, Arthur was in a good enough place to start realizing that they were bad people for him, especially Dutch. He still held something like familia affection for the old man, but now? Now, he could say it was unhealthy and he was in a much better place without Dutch in his life.

At home, a big pale hand settled on his shoulder.

“Rest.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Arthur sighed, the fight about his helping out after a town visit old and too played out to try again and hope for a new answer. Besides that, that old quake doc that came around to check on him made sure to hammer home just how important it was to not stress himself when he was just starting to heal and back track on his road to recovery, or worse, do damage that he would never heal from when his body was delicate and healing.

So he walked his ass into the house, took off his coat, hat, boots, belt and padded over to the bed. He rolled his head around, working the kinks out, before turning to lay out in the bed and wonder what to do with himself. Not like he could do much still, and he had drained what little he could do just going to town.

Kratos walked in, carrying the first of everything. Arthur watched him from a time, simply because it was something else watching a man that big and broad with muscles and looking like one of them there Greek mosaics depicting warriors of bygone eons, doing something so normal and domestic as carrying in goods and such. Just something hypnotic about the way his muscles moved underneath all that pale skin, the way that he just looked… at peace. Made Arthur feel… calm, peaceful, at home.

One trip in, Kratos made a detour by the bed, carefully settling something on the little table beside it, before continuing what he was doing. When Arthur looked, it looked like two new books for Arthur to read and another blank book for his sketching. Huh, big man must have bought those when he excused himself when Arthur had to have a sit down before they left. Despite looking like a big brute, he sure was a thoughtful softie.

“Ain’t you sweet?” Arthur grinned, making Kratos grunt, but otherwise said nothing.

Once everything was put away, the big man came over and sat on the edge of the bed, rubbing his hands, messaging the knuckles gently. Seeing his change, Arthur sat up, and sat behind the big man and leaned himself forward against the big and broad back. Despite the months of living together, the big man still flinched, going stiff and rigid for half a second, before slowly and laboriously relaxing. One muscle at a time. Until Arthur could comfortably melt against the shape of his back, the man’s heat soaking into his always aching chest and lungs and soothing the both of them.

The texture of his skin was always weird. Like there was something forigen on his skin, something that needed to be wiped off, but no matter how one scrubbed or rubbed against his skin, that feeling never went away. Any time Arthur dragged his fingers along the pale flesh, the big man always got this long and far gone look in his eyes, so Arthur never said anything. He trusted the big man to share when the time was right, if he ever could. He knew enough how wounds of the mind just did not heal right sometimes, when they were painful enough. His chest ached nothing like some of the things that kept him up at night, some of the things that had him screaming into consciousness while spitting up blood the first few months in the cabin.

Still, he pressed his stubbly cheek between those big shoulders and just relaxed against him. His arms came around that thick with muscle waist and rested lightly on the wall of muscle and fat that made up his abdomen, thumbing at the skin absently. He was tempted to pet the rather large scar along his belly, like someone tried to gut him the hard way or maybe run through with something rather large? But that also put that far away look in the big man’s eyes that made him seem physically far away and Arthur’s lonely heart needed him here.

“I need to get up.”

“Aw, fine.”

A big hand found one of his for a moment, squeezing briefly, before he reluctantly let the pale giant go, watching him move around the house for a moment, before taking up his bow and arrows. Arthur tried to not be miffed about being left alone, just nodding when the big man gruffed out ‘he would be back’ before picking up one of his new books and figuring he would dig in. He only recently started reading again, figuring that it would be a way of escaping the house-bound loneliness for awhile, and since he was never a _strong_ reader, he would go through it slow enough to make it last.

He got lost in that for a while, laying down and taking things easy. Long enough for Kratos to go out hunting and come back, staying outside to butcher everything, before coming in and starting their dinner. Arthur had rested enough and he was recovered enough that he could help out a little, peeling a few potatoes and carrots for a soup before starting some dough for some bread. When things were cooking, he sat down again as he felt the slight burn to his lungs that he knew from experience could turn to coughing if he kept working himself.

Surprisingly, the big man sat down next to him. Silently he raised one hand to hover above Arthur’s abdomen, eyes flicking to Arthur’s in a silent question. Arthur just nodded, watching that big hand move to gently press against his belly, feeling around that area and then moving up to feel along his chest. He sighed from the gentle and soft touch, letting his eyes close for a moment to relax.

“You are putting on weight.”

“Yeah, that old doc will be happy for once.”

“... As am I. It means your healing.”

Arthur cracked open his eyes and found the big man looking down at his hand, still gently rubbing along Arthur’s front.

“Ain’t you sweet?” Arthur drawled out, grinning when Kratos huffed.

The big man huffed quietly, leaning over to kiss his cheek in perhaps the softest and sweetest way that anyone had ever kissed Arthur before. Big brute of a man was all mush underneath that stony exterior and Arthur just really liked that about him. Arthur just really liked the big man. So he snuck a kiss back before he could lean away, getting a little smirk out of the big man before he rose to attend to their dinner. Leaving Arthur to smile as he watched the big man work.

He always thought the ‘American dream’ about having a home, a spouse, and a thriving farm or work was never something for him, even if he tried to make it work. But here he was, with a big man that had his little heart in that big hand, they had a home that they were making theirs every day, they had a budding little plot of land out there and their first little batch of crops were taking well, hell, he almost had it in the big man’s head for them to take on cows for milk. Guess he had the ‘American Dream’ after all, when for the longest time he thought the best end of life plan he had was a quick and painless death.

When the big man was done and came down to sit down again, Arthur reached over and wrapped his arms around the man’s neck.

“Gimme some sugar, honey?”

That got him a snort of laughter and another kiss. Both sweeter than anything Arthur had ever had the honor of taking in.


End file.
